


Selection

by Sharcade



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Clothing, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Shopping, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharcade/pseuds/Sharcade
Summary: Hank insists on Connor adding some new clothes to his wardrobe.





	Selection

"This isn't particularly necessary, Lieutenant."

Connor eyed himself in the rear view mirror, fixing his tie. He was neatly groomed as always, looking his best in his only suit. Connor didn't have any other outfits really, he had never found a reason to change his wardrobe, not when his clothes fit just fine as they were. It had been Hank who had finally insisted on Connor buying a few new clothes, he had even made space in his own wardrobe for Connor's things.

Connor's time living with Hank had been filled with compromise on both parts, though mainly Hank's. Hank had made it fairly clear after the revolution that he had no intentions of leaving Connor to rot amongst the homeless population of Detroit. There had been a few weeks spent browsing apartments before Hank had finally resigned, admitting that he'd rather Connor stay with him than in any of those cheap dumps. Connor had been more than willing to oblige.

He had taken the guest room, truly making it his own at Hank's approval. He had painted it before anything else, and the two had done plenty of shopping since then to properly furnish the room. That being said, they had yet to buy a wardrobe, which made Connor wonder why they were now going out to buy  _clothes_.

"But wouldn't it be nice to get out of those robot clothes every once in a while?" Hank urged, glancing over at Connor for a moment before refocusing on the road. "You look like  _property_ in that jacket, it's weird."

"My jacket fits both my designated style and personality." Connor informed, raising an eyebrow. "My defining features are an imposing nature and dark tones, such as my hair and eyes."

"Think about your room," Hank offered. "Isn't it better now that it's your style?"

Connor hummed quietly in acknowledgement, thinking back to designing his room. He had painted it yellow, filling it with plenty of potted plants and photos. It was nicely decorated, looking lively and sunny, an aesthetic Connor had found that he liked. He loved the outdoors and he loved  _life,_ so houseplants had been a must. He took good care of them and they made his room smell fresh and clean, they made things feel alive. He loved when things felt alive.

"I suppose," Connor agreed, tilting his head. "But interior decorating is much different than personal clothing choice. I can't wear a houseplant."

"Well no, but you can find a style you like, whatever that turns out to be."

Connor nodded, considering his options as Hank pulled into the parking lot of the thrift store. Connor had insisted on not buying any brand new clothes, assuring Hank he could wear used clothes if Hank was so insistent on paying. He didn't mind wearing used clothes, used clothes meant that the clothes were good enough for somebody else, so why not himself? That being said, he had no idea what he was supposed to wear, he had never been forced to design himself before. He knew very little about human style.

"Alright, let's take a look at what we got here." Hank started, parking the car before stepping out. "We'll find somethin' you like."

"I hope so," Connor mused, stepping out of the car and quickly moving to Hank's side. "Though I don't exactly  _know_ what I like."

"So we take a look around," Hank shrugged, leading them both into the store. "See what catches your eye. You look good in black."

"I'm fairly sure everybody looks good in black, Lieutenant."

The second Connor entered the building, he was bombarded by colours. The racks seemed to go on forever, decorated with hundreds of clothes in all shapes and sizes. Now that he was inside it was admittedly a little exciting, having the freedom to choose from so many different options. Each section of clothing was labelled with its own little tag, categorising each section in a way so organized that Connor couldn't help but dwell on it.

"Take a look around, see if anything looks interesting." Hank instructed, his own eyes exploring the store. "God only knows how much shit is in here."

Connor's eyes roamed the racks as he walked slowly past them, eyeing any clothes he spotted in his size. Few fit exactly correctly, but he supposed it didn't have to be exactly correct. Most humans didn't wear clothes that were sized exactly for them anyway. His eyes fell on a blazer much like his own, so much so that it likely belonged to an android to begin with. It looked as though it would fit.

"How about this?" Connor suggested, taking the blazer from the racks and looking it over.

"No, no, no." Hank scolded. "No more robot clothes, find some actual people shit."

"But it's very-"

" _People clothes, Connor._ "

"Alright, understood, how about this?" Connor inquired, pulling another outfit off of the rack.

"That's a wet suit, dumbass." Hank muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's for diving. Find everyday clothes."

"Well I don't know what's suitable." Connor argued, scanning over the racks before pulling out a pale blue dress shirt. "How about this?"

"Yeah, yeah, not bad." Hank mused, tilting his head. "But do you like it?"

Connor looked over the shirt; it matched his look fairly well. Business casual, neat and tidy, clean cut and organized. That was what his designers had kept in mind while creating him, an organized and slightly aloof detective who looked ready to work. That was the look he had kept for as long as he could possibly remember, and he had never been particularly uncomfortable with it.

At least, not until he had seen how many options were available to him.

"I'm not sure." Connor admitted, his lowering his voice slightly as he thought. "It's...very predictable from me."

"Wanna break free a bit then?"

"I think I do."

"Alright, so keep browsing." Hank shrugged. "It's completely up to you, I'm not gonna buy you something you don't like."

Hank had always been accepting like that.

Connor spent what felt like hours browsing the store, picking through each rack by size and colour and style as he looked for something that would suit him. Something lively, something light and exciting and free, something that wasn't so tight and so formal and so  _predictable._ Every shirt seemed to look the same to him, and if it didn't, it was typically a ratty t-shirt or hoodie that he had no interest in iether way. Nothing here looked suitable for him, and he was beginning to give up hope. He had long since parted ways with Hank, the detective having stalked off to help with the search in another section, leaving Connor alone to browse the men's clothing further.

He sighed, glancing around the section once again, still underwhelmed by the greyed tones and cuffed sleeves. It was all too bland, it was all too formal, it was all too predictable. He wanted something a little more interesting, was that so much to ask? He didn't want another plain dress shirt. He didn't want another cuffed suit jacket. He paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to stray into the next section over.

Women's sundresses.

Skeptically, he peered around the corners, quickly noting that nobody was there. Silently, he padded over to the dresses, eyeing them with caution. Connor was built to reflect a human male, he had broad shoulders and a deep voice, it was how he had always been, and he had never been uncomfortable with that, even now. That being so bad, was it so bad for a male to want to wear something meant for a female? He didn't want anything in the men's section, but what was so awful about the fact that the airy yellow spotted sundress hanging on the racks in front of him had caught his eye?

Quietly, he took the dress from the shelves, holding it up to his chest. It was strapless, the top half stretchy enough that Connor deduced he could easy fit into it if he so desired. Eyeing his surroundings one more time for good measure, he folded the dress neatly, tucking it under his arm. He could see Hank a few isles away over the racks; it wasn't hard to spot Hank in any store with how tall the man stood. Cautiously, Connor paced off towards the fitting rooms, taking the nearest one and locking the door behind him. He eyed himself in the mirror, glancing down at the dress in his arms. 

He wondered if the yellow would bring out his eyes.

Sliding his blazer off, Connor made quick work of changing. He was grateful that the dress fit so easily, not to mention the fact that he really didn't look half bad in it. He didn't know what he had expected to feel, but seeing the dress in the mirror gave him a slight sense of pride. He looked decent. Not just that, he looked  _good_. He didn't know if it was the dress or if it was the confidence he gave off while wearing it, but he had finally found something that fit his style, whatever that style was. He smiled slightly. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed.

"Hank?" he called, listening as the detective's heavy footsteps approached.

"You found somethin'?"

Cautiously, Connor opened the fitting room door, Hank looking him over as he took in the sight of the dress.

"Yeah, I think that'll work." he nodded, folding his arms in consideration. "Looks good on you, kid. Do you like it?"

"I do." Connor confirmed, eyeing himself in the mirror once again. "It fits my  _style._ "

"Then we'll put it on my card."

Hank had always been accepting like that.


End file.
